Evil
by ForestFireSong
Summary: Because sometimes the arguments get much too personal. While nursing a headache, remarks about WW2 during a World Meeting lead Germany into a flood of reminiscing- and to leave the meeting. After all, he deserves a break, right? A break from feeling like he was evil, evil, evil, and failing to convince himself that it was not so...


Sighing, Germany lifted his head from the table it was rested upon. Had the meeting been functioning in a professional manner, he wouldn't have allowed himself to lose focus like he had, but this World Meeting in France was going like all the others normally did- it had dissolved into chaos.

Germany had lost the thread of the conversation, but turning his tired, burning eyes to watch the center of the entire calamity, he could see that England and France were at the heart of it as usual. And, once again, as usual, he would have to break it up while all the other nations argued like idiots.

Straining his ears to hear over the other nations as they resolved (fought out) their own problems, Germany gathered that the bickering had started from France's presentation on his Navy.

"…took me that long to rebuild, Black Sheep!" France was shouting at England.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do, frog? I was fighting alone. The kraut led me to it." Germany could see the direction the conversation was going, and he wanted to prevent it. Or at least not hear it.

But try preventing a tornado that's only miles away from hitting your house.

"Why does all the blame, like, go to Germany?" Poland spoke up, in front of Lithuania as if to guard him again. "You all are like, totally asking for another world war."

"We just need a good scrapegoat, da?" Russia replied, his creepily innocent smile still intact.

"Wait! Are we talking about World War I or World War II?" America barged in on the scene. Oh yes, Germany could see where this was going. They must've thought his head was still down on the table and thus he wasn't listening. Beside the blond nation, Japan sat, his eyes darting around nervously.

"World War 2," England told the blond American, adding 'git' under his breath.

"Oh yeah!" America grinned. "Like in all my awesome movies!"

"Aren't all of your movies about Russians, aliens, or the robot apocalypse?" Hungary questioned. America shrugged.

"Yeah, but World War 2 was like the literal apocalypse, with Europe being dominated-…"

"Nearly." England added.

"I thought you cared more about your war with the Russians, though, right?" Denmark spoke up. "And then you that's what you make movies about."

"If he did, realistically, then the capitalist pig should be at fault," Russia told the spiky haired nation. "Because before I joined the Allies, the only nation I really hurt was Poland, and he is annoying."

"Hey!" came Poland's indignant cry. "I am so not annoying, I'm super cool, and your fashion sense-"

"After all, I was the one being invaded and betrayed, da?" Russia finished as though Poland hadn't spoken, bringing the conversation back to what Germany hadn't wanted to hear. The words sunk in as he watched Lithuania hold Poland back from getting into a 'catfight' as he so called it with Russia, who just laughed innocently (sadistically.)

More fighting continued to break out, and Japan tugged nervously on Germany's sleeve. "Germany-san, this is getting much to personal. Perhaps one of us should step in."

Well, he was right about it getting to personal. Germany pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. The majority of the nations quarreled on, apart from ones such as Norway, Austria, or Ukraine, who had been watching him, probably in hopes that that he would step in and break the mess up like always.

And that had been what Germany planned to do. But listening to the quarreling about old grudges from WW2, a looking at most of the nations involved in his conquering of Europe during that time period, just added on to the already-there and mounting headache that the blond nation had, making him feel sicker and sicker.

France, Britain, Russia…Belgium, the Netherlands, Czech and Slovakia, Prussia and Austria… even Italy and America's presence contributed to the negative build-up of feelings Germany had. Since his economy was doing fine, it was obviously an emotional problem, one that had been there for quite awhile but hadn't come to light until recently. He was unfit to be at the meeting at the moment, with feelings that had piled up since the Treaty of Versailles, to 1945, to present day, that had a depressing effect on him. The blond nation's headache, along with that, restricted him from doing anything but leaving the meeting.

And so leave he did.

**/ / /**

Walking down the streets of France, Germany pressed his hands to his throbbing head. Somehow it just rubbed salt in the wound that he had to see so much of Paris on his trek back to the hotel room.

Thinking of the long-haired Frenchman, and all of Germany's frustrations with him, the first thing beyond his constant interruption of meetings was the cursed Treaty of Versailles. World War I may have seemed a like a long time ago, but it was fresh in Germany's mind. Especially the end of it, the treaty, with France and the allies what seemed to Germany then a ridiculous amount of war reparations. He had made no secret his desire to get what one might interpret as revenge from the blond haired nation, and to hoist upon him blame.

They were obviously both at fault, as warring nations often are, seeing as Germany was the losing country and therefore, because of his keen participation in the war, had to accept some sort of punishment. As for France, because a lot of the fighting for that war had been done in his country, he rightfully wanted compensation. It was as simple as that.

But old rivalries got in the way, a shining new leader appeared before Germany, and before long they had another world war on their hands.

_France…_ Germany thought, getting one last look at said country's capital city before entering his hotel. He could still see fear, or, more accurately, terror, in France's eyes as he realized his country was lost. It was a fear that never really seemed to leave the Frenchman, for all his foolishness and flirtatious mannerisms.

Evil, Germany thought, unlocking the door to his hotel room. Evil, evil, evil. That's what France had thought he was, during that battle, and what many nations still believed Germany held undertones of. Don't make Germany mad, he'll start another world war! Germany's economy is going well? Better mobilize our armies! America's movies, casual jokes and not so casual arguments. Evil.

Slumping on the couch, Germany's headache prevented him from moving. He really needed medicine, a beer, and a break from his heavy workload, but none of that was accessible at the moment. He also should've gone back to the meeting, but Germany conceded that it didn't matter since it was going nowhere and the blond nation wouldn't have been of much use at the moment. So it was just him and his thoughts, a dangerous concoction.

Germany's head pounded, rhythmic almost, if it weren't for the fact it was accompanied by the resounding chant of the voice in his head. 'Not evil, not evil, not, not…' It was very much a child's voice, something to add to Germany's depth of shame as he tried to escape his past troubles, his past crimes.

But were they crimes? Not the war, but all the times before that. Head in his hands, Germany tried to block out memories of inflation so high it took a sack full of marks to buy a loaf of bread, only to have it be more the next day, money's value going down as he scrambled to pay off his debt, millions without jobs.

When a new leader emerged, bringing with him good fortune for the Germans, Germany himself couldn't deny that he trusted him. He was tired of seeing his people suffering and was hopeful that this was just what they needed.

Of course, such conviction and pride faded away in the later years of the war. Germany discovered just how things went for him when things didn't go the way his leader wanted. He would be subjected to loud, angry rants, which somehow managed to spill out of the German's own mouth towards Prussia and Austria.

Like most European countries during that time period, they would stay at his house most of the time. Of course, since Prussia was Germany's own brother and Austria was part of the Anschluss, with no conquering (essentially) required, they received better treatment than others. Still, at that time, Germany had been irritated with Prussia because of his doubt for his- no, their- leader. And despite their 'union', he had felt something of a hate for Austria because of how mixed the country was. It seemed that there was no purity at all.

Germany's phone vibrated, signifying a text. He gathered up just enough energy past his pain to lift the phone and squint at it. It was from Japan, but Germany's eyes, and mind, wouldn't read any further.

Dropping the phone next to him on the couch, Germany massaged his temples. Japan was probably the one who had understood him the best on how he felt after the war. The small Asian nation had dealt with shame, mistrust, and related feelings just as he had after the war (after he had recovered from the wounds inflicted by the bombs America had unleashed upon him.)

After Germany's leader had surrendered his life, the blond nation had lain in the underground bunker, bombs bursting far, far above, new bruises appearing continually, his body slowly reverting to pure human form until he could recover. The Allies had rescued him, Italy among them, and despite being butter enemies at that time, they had allowed Japan to come visit him while the blond nation was in their custody.

Japan had still been fighting at the time, and although the eyes that looked down at Germany were devoid of life, his companionship then and after the war had been much appreciated.

Germany's phone vibrated once, twice, then three times. Germany doubted that the sender was Japan, who's usually could get his point across in one text.

His phone vibrated a final time before the hotel door was flung open. It almost shocked Germany enough for him to look up and get up, but ultimately the pain stopped him from going through with those actions.

"Germany, Germany! Ve, Germany, are you okay?" the blond nation mentally cursed himself for forgetting that he, Japan, and Italy were sharing hotel room (which, for some reason, got Hungary unnaturally excited; it was only because most of Paris's hotels were crowded) meaning that either one of them could have followed him up there after the meeting, as Italy apparently had.

Without opening his eyes, Germany could feel Italy sitting down next to him. "You look sick, Germany! Should I call China for some medicine?"

At times like this, Germany was sure if Italy truly didn't understand or was simply trying to lighten the mood. Although, since he couldn't read the atmosphere, the former might be right. Without replying, the blond nation wondered why Italy had to be the one seeing him in the midst of all his reminiscing about WW2. Just because the cheerful Italian had been his ally at the time (and still was, somewhat) didn't mean Germany's memories of him were good, if anything they were worse than some of his others.

That was because Germany had to experience Italy's pain firsthand. All the way back to that day, when he had visited Italy. The Allies had been invading the country through the Mediterranean after a successful conquest in North Africa, and it had taken its toll. Germany's small, bright Italian had been covered in bandages, bloodied and in need of replacement, but it seemed he couldn't even do that. Romano had been lying in an army cot, too weak to even throw an insult Germany's way.

Even though he was war-hardened and seemingly remorseless at the time, it had still pained Germany to see Italy suffering like he was, and hearing, no longer only Italy's favorite line, but a phrase spoken with true conviction: "I surrender."

The blond nation had held his ally close, feeling the tears spill from where they had been pooling at the corners of the Italian's eyes onto Germany's military uniform.

It just added to his depth of shame, Germany thought, that he had comforted and understood Italy while he was in the deep reaches of pain then, but when his surrender had become final, let out fury at him.

"Coward! Incompetent!" he had yelled at the shocked, crying Italian. "Dummkopf! I don't need your assistance any longer. Go running back to the Allies, and a useless ally you'll make as well!"

Cruel, harsh words hurled from Germany's own frustrations and his despair that his pride, as well as his leader, wouldn't allow him to surrender and take the easy way out like Italy.

And yet, by some miracle Italy was still beside him, to that very moment, comforting him after all that happened, not only that day, but also for all those years long past. The blond nation managed to wrench himself out of his stupor from his excruciating headache to listen.

"…or because of what everything said about WW2?" Italy was speaking aloud, apparently not registering or caring that Germany hadn't been paying attention up until that point. However, he seemed to acknowledge how aware Germany was now, and turned wide amber eyes on him. Wide amber eyes that were, as Germany could see, smarter than usually given credit for.

"After you left, everyone stopped fighting. I went after you while they were thinking of sending someone else, ve~!" After that sentence, the cheerfulness died from Italy's voice.

"It's hard, isn't? And embarrassing. A lot of the nations are your friends, and they respect you. But some are still scared- like Big Brother France. They don't think you feel any remorse, or should, and are just moving on. I guess they don't remember you were in a war, too, and that you lost it, as well."

Germany looked over at Italy, surprise blocking out the pounding for a moment. The little Italian was being surprisingly insightful about feelings at the moment. Then again, he had always been much more adept at that sort of thing than Germany.

"The things the Third Reich did were evil. The war was horrible. But you're not evil, Germany. I can account for that! We're just going to live too long for you to be judged, and for you to judge yourself. But if you want to be forgiven, then take this however much you think it's worth- I forgive you!"

Germany wasn't really as hard and cold as one might think he was, he didn't have as many walls to get through, but even so, no emotional flood of words (or tears) came pouring out of him. Nonetheless, Italy had tapped into just what Germany had been feeling, and what he had said had been like a breath of fresh air, from someone as pure as the cheerful Italian.

"Where did you get so philosophical?" the blond German asked.

"Yay! You're talking!" before Germany could react, Italy had tackled him in a hug. Still holding him in an embrace, Italy answered, "Sometimes it just comes to me. But if you think that's philosophical, try listening to Japan on the subject! He's waaay more serious. For me, I just want to make you feel better!"

Italy really was strange, Germany could conclude, but also one of the most important things in the world to him. More important that the empire he had built for himself, as many things had turned out to be. It just took the crumbling of that shining empire to reveal that.

**A/N: Now, Japan, come out from hiding with your camera!**

**Okay, I'm fairly sure this sucked. The transition looks bad, and I'm not sure how well Germany was shown in here. Nonetheless, I enjoyed writing it, because Germany has such an interesting character. I just had to post it. And, there's a call out to Desperation! (Okay, no more advertising.)**

**Please read and review! Reviews make me smile :D**


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